over such, and
loth to be robbed of her morbid feast of misery, she set her failure
down to their pre-determined subtlety. Therese was conscious of a
change in Fanny's attitude, and felt herself unable to account for it
otherwise than by whim, which she knew played a not unimportant role
in directing the manner of a large majority of women. Moreover, it was
not a moment to lose herself in speculation concerning this woman's
capricious behavior. Her guests held the first claim upon her
attentions. Indeed, here was Mrs. Worthington even now loudly
demanding a pack of cards. "Here's a gentleman never heard of
six-handed euchre. If you've got a pack of cards, Mrs. Laferm, I guess
I can show him quick enough that it can be done."

"Oh, I don't doubt Mrs. Worthington's ability to make any startling
and pleasing revelations," rejoined the planter good humoredly, and
gallantly following Mrs. Worthington who had risen with the view of
putting into immediate effect her scheme of initiating these slow
people into the unsuspected possibilities of euchre; a game which,
however adaptable in other ways, could certainly not be indulged in by
seven persons. After each one proffering, as is usual on such
occasions, his readiness to assume the character of on-looker, Mr.
Worthington's claim to entire indifference, if not inability--confirmed
by his wife--was accepted as the most sincere, and that gentleman was
excluded and excused.

He watched them as they seated themselves at table, even lending
assistance, in his own awkward way, to range the chairs in place. Then
he followed the game for a while, standing behind Fanny to note the
outcome of her reckless offer of "five on hearts," with only three
trumps in hand, and every indication of little assistance from her
partners, Mr. Duplan and Belle Worthington.

At one end of the room was a long, low, well-filled book-case. Here
had been the direction of Mr. Worthington's secret and stolen glances
the entire evening. And now towards this point he finally transported
himself by gradual movements which he believed appeared unstudied and
indifferent. He was confronted by a good deal of French--to him an
unfamiliar language. Here a long row of Balzac; then, the Waverley
Novels in faded red cloth of very old date. Racine, Moliere, Bulwer
following in more modern garb; Shakespeare in a compass that promised
very small type. His quick trained glance sweeping along the shelves,
contracted into a